


unfitting pieces

by kemia



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bittersweet, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-31 13:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15120326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kemia/pseuds/kemia
Summary: ranmaru doesn’t believe in soulmates. he doesn’t believe in anything. yet, his heart is reawakened by purple flowers and a stranger with a sad smile.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! thank you for reading! this au was inspired by a few of my close friends and i’m glad to contribute it to the utapri fandom!

_It’s just lines on skin._

People around passed by in hurried steps, having their back and forths about weekend plans and exhausting jobs and love. Love, it just wouldn’t stop permeating every aspect of life, even when unwanted. Especially when unwanted. No one could shut up about it.

To Ranmaru, it wasn’t love. To him, it was a hive mind, a society so absolutely obsessed with the tiniest of birthmarks because it meant a future of happiness. A future of prosperity, a future filled with love.

_I don’t get it. It’s just lines on skin._

His mornings were spent on a park bench in the fog of an early morning, clinging to a tumbler full of black coffee that had long since gone cold. His eyes laid closed, and he listened as people walked by. Mentally, he counted the number of times they would mention their love lives. One. Two, five, ten.

It was a contagion. Everyone was addicted to a superstition, and it was revolting - revolting and unable to be understood.

After a while, he shifted forward, propping his elbows on his knees. His eyes still didn’t open, and a heavy sigh came tumbling from his mouth, falling to the ground and rolling around his feet.

This was self-torture. He thought everyone in the whole damn world was irrational, but none more than himself, subjecting himself to what disgusted him daily as if it would bring him a sense of peace or closure eventually. Idiotic, but routine nonetheless.

Ranmaru’s eyes refused to open, until he felt the bench bend under the weight of someone new. Slowly they cracked open, peering just slightly at a younger blond with a bundle of purple flowers resting in one arm. The other man’s attention aimed out over the rims of his glasses, bright green eyes focused toward the sky with a gaze that had no explanation in words.

Ranmaru stared still for a moment, unable to tear away from the sight until the man could feel the attention, turning toward Ranmaru with a gentle smile.

“Oh! Hi there. This isn’t bothering you, is it? That’s the last thing I’d want.”

The voice was gentle, pleasant, like an ideal Spring day. Yet, there was only the fog surrounding them, making the stranger seem so out of place. Ranmaru turned away, placing his chin in the palm of one hand. “... It’s fine.”

“Oh, thank you! We appreciate it.”

He looked back into the distance again and said nothing else.

_We?_

Ranmaru wanted to focus on something else, but his head was suddenly swimming in new water, too curious to stop from sneaking peeks. He became engrossed in the other’s gentle breathing, secretly watching while tuning out all of the other ugly words around him.

Finally, the blond man stood to leave, but not before turning back to offer Ranmaru a tiny wave. “Have a good day, okay?”

The statement stunned him in its simplicity, but Ranmaru got the hint quickly, huffing through his nose. “Sure.”

Like that, the enigma of a stranger vanished like sunlight behind the clouds, brushing past him and heading in a direction opposite the flow of foot traffic. Ranmaru was usually the type to leave others to their business, but he remained trapped in his head as the other’s unbeaten path provided the realization he’d been seeking.

At least he’d stopped wallowing in his own misery for a while. Though, he didn’t think anyone would pick such an ugly morning to visit a grave.

* * *

That man returned once a week, at the same time and place, always with the same purple flowers, always with the same vacant expression. He and Ranmaru never spoke, aside from the quiet exchange of well-wishes when they parted. They always sat beside each other, worlds apart. Ranmaru was only more and more curious, so curious he felt guilty, because his empathy was not inclined to ever give him a fucking break.

But he never engaged with anyone first. It was like a creed. Engaging first was a sign of bad luck. The silence wrapping around him, combined with the incessant chatter of others, though, was driving him insane.

“... You always bring the same flowers.”

The statement was little more than a murmur, one he hadn’t even wanted to express out loud, but it caught the other’s attention. Ranmaru looked up - a tiny lie of a smile looked back, too obviously heartbroken.

“Have you ever heard of ‘hanakotoba’?”

“Huh?”

“The language of flowers. It helps me speak when I’m not sure what to say.”

The man sighed briefly, adjusting his glasses.

“I’m sorry. We’ve met so many times now, but I’ve never introduced myself. My name is Shinomiya Natsuki.”

A short silence and an expression like doubt prefaced his next statement.

“I really apologize if me always sitting here has disturbed you somehow. This spot is just very important to me.” His eyes drifted toward the sky. “Someone I held very dearly used to sit in that exact spot you’re sitting in. It’s almost nice, feeling another presence next to me. It’s like he’s right there.”

How could Ranmaru possibly respond to that? No matter his opinion on love, there wasn’t a word in the goddamn world that could follow a sentence like that. He moved his gaze into his lap, fruitlessly formulating what could be done.

“... Do you want to go get a coffee? When you’re done.”

The offer felt so bizarre on his tongue. First moves were wrong. So wrong, so uncomfortable, so _desperate_ -

“I’d like that.”

The response was weirdly warming. He watched Natsuki stand slowly, cradling the purple flowers close to his chest with one arm while extending the other.

“Would you wait here for me?”

“... Yeah, sure.”

“Can I have your name?”

He tried pointlessly to look casually indifferent. “Kurosaki Ranmaru.”

A more genuine smile than usual appeared as Natsuki turned away. “Then I’ll be back soon, Kurosaki-san.”

As Ranmaru watched him trace the path worn by his own footsteps, he wondered if he was an idiot for following his gut.

He had to be. Had he spoken out of subconscious pity? Why else would he engage with someone with a love scar so blatantly on the back of their hand? Those people were always bad news.

Always.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you’re wondering, the flowers natsuki brings are shion - which mean “i will remember you”. ranmaru just don’t know shit.
> 
> sorry for taking so long on an update! i’m a very busy person! thanks for reading!

Their initial chat over coffee was more of an immovable silence. Ranmaru hasn’t thought this through at all. What were they supposed to talk about, dead loved ones? This was why first moves were such a curse.

Why had he said anything, anyway? Was he truly selfish enough to want to know more about the person feet away from him for so long?

He had no idea, but it was clear Natsuki could read him like an open book.

“Kurosaki-san… It’s okay to ask.” The reassurance was so gentle but tinged with emptiness, like every other word he spoke.

Ranmaru cleared his throat, placing both hands on his mug and fidgeting his fingers. He needed something else to look at.

“... How long have you been doing that every week?” It felt sinful to say his morbid curiosities aloud.

Natsuki hummed briefly, stirring his spoon absentmindedly in his cup. “Only recently. I used to be unable to visit, but it felt like running from what I didn’t want to accept. I promised him I would come every week, so he could know to expect me.”

“His name is Syo. We knew that we were fated since we were kids - we were even born on the same day. Our families used to make a big deal about it, but over time we understood it ourselves. It didn’t feel like I loved him because we were supposed to be in love. I loved him so dearly for who he was, and what he gave to me. A happy, go-lucky life! Mostly.”

The air in the café stagnated, the feeling suffocating. Ranmaru couldn’t find words - god, there really weren’t any. He felt this valley of separation between them, unable to understand anything to do with being fated, but he understood loss, if anything. He looked down into his coffee, able to see his reflection in the liquid.

Having watched that expression fall from fond to forlorn, Ranmaru was surprised when Natsuki shook his head quickly, yellow curls framing his face. Once again he put on a clearly fake smile and a brighter voice, but it was almost more painful to watch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down too much. So, what do you do, Kurosaki-san?”

His voice was low in response. “Oh, uh… I’m a musician.”

“Really? So am I! What do you play?”

“Bass.”

“Oh, are you in a band?”

“Not now.”

“I’m sure you’re good on your own. See, I play the violin. It’s different, but also kinda similar, don’t you think?”

 _Sure - I guess they both have strings,_ Ranmaru supposed, but his conscience kept the words inside for once. “Yeah, guess so.”

Another question lurked just on the tip of his tongue, but he _hated_ the idea of an answer.

“Is something wrong, Kurosaki-san?”

“What does it feel like… being fated ‘n all.”

Natsuki let his eyes drop open a bit wider before they settled and he took a quick sip of his coffee. “Well, I guess they do skip around the subject in school. Really, it doesn’t feel any different - it’s just a birthmark.”

His eyes slid over the skin of the back of his hand, lips gently quirked. “But when you stand near the person whose mark matches yours - it feels warm, like the sun just kind of flashes across your skin. Your heart beats faster, but you don’t feel afraid. You just feel like you’re in the right place at the right time and there’s no other place in the world you belong more.”

Ranmaru fidgeted uncomfortably, propping his elbow onto the table and leaning into his hand. “Yeah. Thought so.”

Not everyone was born with love scars etched into their skin, and Ranmaru was very aware of that fact - but it still felt as if he were singled out in crowds of people who showed theirs off like peacock feathers.

Yet, the description made him pause. His first meeting with Natsuki was much like that - none of the gushy, saccharine shit, but as if the sun had peeked through the clouds to warm him.

No. He wasn’t even going to bother processing beyond that thought.

“So, you don’t have a mark at all, Kurosaki-san?” Natsuki didn’t wait for a reply. “It must feel like freedom to you, right? I’ve always wondered how life would go without one.”

“...Ranmaru.”

“Huh?”

“Stop calling me that. Just call me Ranmaru.”

It was the easiest way for him to skirt around the question. Ranmaru had so many things he could have said - how it feels like you’re wandering lost and jealous in a society that excludes you - but he decided he just wanted the topic to be done. One question was enough to wear him out on the idea completely.

“Oh… if you’re sure. Ranmaru it is.”

Each time they encountered a mutual silence, the atmosphere got more comfortable… yet, more dismal. The fresh smiling face across from Ranmaru continued to sink further and further.

“Well, Ranmaru… This might be a bit strange to ask, but would you mind coming with me next time? To visit him. I think he’d be happy to know I had someone to talk to recently.”

The emeralds of his eyes glimmered with desperation, and as much as Ranmaru was ready to adamantly refuse, it was proving impossible. He hated how soft he was for this person he had no connection to whatsoever - he put way too much effort into seeming cold without the payoff he desired.

His mouth opened and closed a few times before it gave up pitifully. “...Whatever, sure. If it helps.”

In the other’s glance shone, but in an uneasy, unreadable way - Ranmaru didn’t know what he thought of it, he wasn’t a fucking body language guru, but he recognized something other than relief lurking behind those glasses.

“You’re really so kind, Ranmaru.” Natsuki chuckled briefly on an exhale. Then, he strangely pursed his lips, as if deep in thought. His hand fished into his pocket and found a few coins - he placed them on the table and quickly rose to his feet, nearly slamming his head against a hanging light.

“S-sorry, I just remembered I have - somewhere I need to be, I almost forgot.” Just barely, he dodged the light a second time. “So, um, I’ll see you next week, then. Goodbye.”

Like that he was gone, hurrying through the glass door and leaving Ranmaru in the wake of an incredibly abrupt ending.

He didn’t have any idea what the hell was ever _truly_ rampaging through Natsuki’s head, but he couldn’t dismiss it completely - not when he’d promised to meet up again.

_What a pain._

He sipped his coffee.

* * *

It was beginning to seem as though the days they were set to meet would always be overcast, at least to Ranmaru. It was a shitty sky-lit metaphor he had no need for. He tilted his head over the back of the bench, letting the monotone atmosphere of the park lull him into partial unconsciousness.

A dream felt within reach, just behind his eyelids, but a tap on his shoulder jolted him awake. Above him waited the sad smile he knew anywhere, eyes curious but distant, with purple flowers nestled in one arm.

“Sorry to wake you. You looked comfortable, but I didn’t want anyone to run off with your things.”

Ranmaru looked down at his bag. It was slung across his body - no one would be able to grab it without waking him. He raised an eyebrow, somewhat incredulous, but shook it off. Natsuki… was a bit strange - not in a bad way, but it was noteworthy.

The same pensive look crossed Natsuki’s face, and honestly, as much as he hated it, Ranmaru knew he was just going to have to be straightforward at one point or another to get anything out of him.

“... Hey. Are you good?”

He almost seemed to have his concentration broken. “Ranmaru? Yes, I’m fine! There’s nothing to be concerned about.” His body betrayed his words, almost, his fidgeting visible. “Well… Are you ready? I’ll show you the way.”

Completely unsatisfied with that answer, Ranmaru pulled himself to his feet, rolling his neck. Sure, it was less casual than a simple walk, considering where they’d end up, but there was really no reason for Natsuki to be this high-strung - not when he’d seemed calmer every other time.

Even stranger, rather than actually continuing down the path, Natsuki only stood with his back to him, in some sort of trance. He stepped back, almost as if he stumbled over nothing.

“ _Hey_. Seriously. Are you - ”

Natsuki turned on his heel, glasses twined between the fingers of one hand. His eyes were sharper, with a glare like knives - glistening emerald became sinister like envy.

“And whose goddamn business is it if he’s not?”

It was an angel cursing, which was absolutely bewildering. Ranmaru didn’t have the vocabulary to respond, and just stood, slightly slack-jawed.

“He does this to everyone he meets, don’t think you’re special. It’s my job to run off the people who think they’ll get some sort of fucking trophy for playing along.”

_What’s with the third-person? What the fuck?_

However, he wasn’t given the opportunity to open his mouth.

“I’m Satsuki. I don’t give a damn about your questions, so don’t bother asking them. I’m Natsuki’s way of shoving you out. He doesn’t need anybody sticking around out of pity.”

So much _anger._ There was so much anger lurking deep in the glare aimed in his direction. Suddenly, Ranmaru was the enemy. He could feel the divide so deeply.

“He _knows_ how much of his personality revolves around his partner. That’s just how this stupid-ass system of fate works, and it isn’t some shit you need to get yourself involved in. His head is a darker place than you’re prepared for. So, do both of us a favor and just _leave him alone.”_

It always came back to that. The mention of fate nearly made his unconscious blood boil. Why did soulmates and fate always have to fuck around in every little thing he did? God, he didn’t care. He just wanted Natsuki - _Satsuki_ \- to stop staring at him the way he was.

It was enough to make him not give a shit about double personalities or weird behavior, because it was an easy, instinctual answer. He knew that Natsuki didn’t deserve to be bound by a fear of fate, either. He was way too young for that.

“...That’s bullshit. I don’t _care_ about _any_ of that. I’m just someone to talk to, alright?”

Ranmaru’s feet dragged him forward a few steps, and Satsuki gripped the flowers tighter, suffocating the severed stems.

“No one deserves that isolation. It fucking sucks.” _I know._ “So go back to whoever the hell you were before and let‘s just go. Got it?”

The eyes staring holes into Ranmaru gaped for a split second, quickly swapping back into their terse persona. “Don’t bother trying to get any closer than you are. It’ll be nothing but a waste of time.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Ranmaru swore he heard the other snicker before he slid his glasses back into place. The familiar voice returned, like the calm eye of a torrential storm. A few blinks and there were those doe eyes, staring back in confusion at him from the short distance.

“...Hm? Sorry, I must have gotten distracted. But we’re almost there.”

And Natsuki continued walking, entirely unfazed.

This… felt like a prank. Maybe it was - maybe it was just some melodramatic ploy to weird him out. Yet, somehow, Ranmaru felt it wasn’t. It felt genuine, and _that_ was positively haunting.

His feet couldn’t fail him now. He’d basically made a promise that despite all the weird shit, he was gonna stick with this arrangement just to give the guy someone to talk to. He felt like he deserved that much.

 _Fuck_ empathy, sometimes.

Curiosity was one of the greatest downfalls humans could have, and Ranmaru was stuck in its trap - the more he wanted to pull away, the more that curiosity dragged him deeper and deeper into a mystery that wasn’t his to solve.

He followed a silent Natsuki along a shallow dirt path through overgrown brush, which felt like shelter under the canopy of clouds. The land all at once began to incline after a few minutes of nothing, and the trees broke over a high, empty field that rolled down toward rows of graves.

As he pulled himself to the top of the hill, the sun ironically began to show itself from behind the clouds, peering over the tombstones. It was beautifully eerie, but it only gave Ranmaru a pit in his stomach.

Is that what he thought Natsuki was, watching him traverse this place with that sad smile of his? Is that what he thought of him as he wordlessly placed his bundle of flowers down and closed his hands? Is that what he thought of that sudden other self, seeking to protect himself through loneliness?

Of course curiosity was yet another bane of his existence, following closely behind fate - yet both of those things pushed him down the slope to walk among the memorials, to stop behind Natsuki and wait silently as moments passed.

All that was necessary for now was paying respects to the dead. For a shred of time, he simply had to accept that he couldn’t do anything about either of them.


End file.
